The journey of peace
by kagayaspirits
Summary: What does it mean, to be a country? Does that mean we're destined to forget peace forever?


It's finally out, YAY!!!! ^_^ *am in a great joy of accomplisement* Took me hours to finish this one, and it's by far the longest fic that I have ever been able to write :)) I'm so excited at the topic, since Champa's death has made her really lonely and people no longer talk about her anymore. I myself am not an enthusiast at Champa culture or anything, and I only did a bit of research on Wikipedia for Champa (which was hardly of any use at all), so I fail to highlight the culture of Champa, sorry After all, it is not the main idea of the story. What I try to portrait in this writing is the relationship between the invader and the invaded, how the two countries think when it comes to war, and whether the invasion is the answer to everything. I do not support war, nor I am against it (I have my own way of thinking), but in my opinion, no matter if they're in the right or not, everyone must feel very sad about it. After all, happiness cannot be built on someone else's sorrow, it is not how things work. So, this fiction was merely my thought on how things really go on in the minds of the countries, who go through the pain of killing someone they truly treasure. What happened cannot be undone, as we can only accept what history tells us. But that doesn't mean we do not have the rights to feel melancholic about it. Losing someone you love is something terrible, but if it's proved to be inevitable, then that's it. Cry as you can, before your tears dry up and the dead faded into eternity. This is not an excuse for what we did, invading Champa, and I don't think many people feel guilty about it. It's just because they have forgotten. This is not the apologize from us Vietnamese either, but a monument to the past. Take it as my own Taj Mahal, though worthless, to the ones that suffered. Even my own hometown originally belonged to Champa (it is mentioned in the story), I'm not uninvolved in the invasion. I have no rights to speak for the past, but what I think myself.

There is NO romance in the story, no matter how suspicious it seems (even I feel someone was going on between Vietnam and Champa, oh well...). I can't simply think of them together as a couple (not that I mind shoujo-ai couple, it's just that I have this thing for VietnamXThailand =^_^=), but as really good friends, kinda like the thing betwen childhood friends who have gone through so much with each other. Girl friends do get really intimate sometimes, it's no big deal

I'm sorry if the Vietnameses get really scary and vicious in this fic, someone's gotta be the villain to make the story more dramatic. I did not intend to (I AM a Vietnamese), so think of this as nothing more than a fiction created by my bizarre imagination. I love Vietnam, and I'll try to make everything nicer next time. Until then~

_*******_

_Are we really destined to fight __each other?  
__Nee, can we just have a day when we don't have to be at war? I'm tired. I just want to feel peace, just for once, is that too much to ask for?_

*******

She hardly ever went south.  
It wasn't because she didn't want to, it was just that she was always busy with things at home, everyday new issues just kept on popping up. There were the issues of agriculture, of diplomacy, of China invading her home too often, of the laws and military. She didn't have any time left to travel south.  
She had heard about this land for a long time though, from her kings and generals who went south to discuss about land and alliance, from merchants who returned after months dealing business in the neighbouring country, from old tales about people who wore colourful clothing and indestructible towers.  
And almost always, in those tales that she was told, there was the appearance of a beautiful lady, dressed in fine brightly-coloured dress, the girl whose hair was as long as the mountain range along side of the country, whose eyes were a mysterious colour of darkness, like the shade of many leaves of the forest. The girl had the voice of a mountain bird who  
drank early morning dew and the dance of a rice plant in the wind. The girl who they called 'Champa'.  
And, for a very long time, she had dreamt of meeting that girl.

Once, tired of the hustle and bustle of city life, she asked a merchant to take her southwards along his trip. For the first time, she was going south.  
When the merchant's cart arrived at a town, the sun was already setting. There was hardly anyone going out after sundown. But, when she was helping the man to unload his cart, she saw a silhouette running into the nearby bush. It was a girl dressed in colourful clothing, and she was singing. With the voice of a nightingale.  
She suddenly felt chilled. She quickly said farewell to the merchant and ran after that figure, into the never-ending forest.  
The girl was nowhere in sight. She tried to look for the standing-out dress, but it was too dark. She held her breath and searched for the singing voice.  
There it was. She smiled, following that melodious sound deep into the forest. She couldn't see what was ahead, and she couldn't understand why she was so excited. All she knew was the fact that she was mesmerized by the voice singing foreign sounds that rang loudly in her ears.  
Suddenly, the voice stopped. She stopped, almost immediately. She closed her eyes, trying to catch the sound again.  
Nothing.  
But the sound of trees and leaves and her own breath and howls of nocturnal animals.  
She was frightened. She was lost in a forest that she never once stepped foot into. She didn't know the way, she didn't know how she got this deep into the forest, she didn't know what to do. All she could count on was that voice to lead her out of here, just like how it had drawn her in. If only there was that voice…  
But, it was gone.

It felt as if she was floating in a dense mass of liquid. Her eyes were blurry and her limbs felt heavy. Her head felt messed up and she could hardly breathe.  
But she was not alone in that mass. There was someone there with her, and she could barely made out the line of that body. It was someone with long black hair who wore a multicoloured dress. This person, she had the scent of the forest. Of tree sap and wild flowers and ripen fruit and morning dew and a bit of salt.  
She tried to reach for that girl. At first, their fingertips touched, but then she realized that they were drifting apart and their fingers could no longer touch the other's.  
She was frightened. She tried to wriggle, to swim to the other girl. She reached out her hands, trying to grasp the other body. The liquid got colder and colder and it got harder to breathe. She choked and coughed out air, struggling to keep her eyes open. Once or twice, her hands caught the girl's, but everytime, the current of the liquid drifted them apart, further and further apart.  
She was exhausted. She let go of the last strength she had, letting herself floating aimlessly. In the corner of her eyes was that figure, tiny like a grain of rice.  
She closed her eyes. It was cold.

Her eyes shot opened. She was lying on the forest floor, curling up under a tree. Her body felt all sore and her hair filled with fallen leaves and dirt. She must have fallen asleep after a long time trying to get herself out. She rubbed her eyes, it seemed bright.  
She blinked.  
Kneeling in front of her was a young lady. She looked rather young and she had her hair tied into a bun. She wore brightly-coloured clothing and had a basket behind her back. Her eyes were big and black, full of depth, as if she knew everything there was to know in the world.  
The girl smiled, the smile was so kind, like that of a mother to her child.  
"Are you all right?", she asked, putting a hand on her shoulder. It was cold.  
"I'm…I'm all right…"  
"It must have been hard, sleeping all alone in this forest at night. This place can get really scary, even for natives like us. But why are you here all alone anyway?"  
"I…got lost…"  
"You aren't someone from around here?"  
"No…I'm from the north."  
"The North? You're from the North!". The girl suddenly got excited, her smiled broadened and her eyes shimmered with light.  
"Are you…are you that girl who they called Viet?"  
"Yes."  
"Wow. You really are her, the girl who lives in the north, who defeated China countless times, and even the Mongols too?"  
"Yes, that's us."  
"Amazing!!". The girl grinned and laughed. Her face lit up with joy and her hand clasped together.  
"I can't believe it, that there would be a day that I got to meet you for real. I've heard so many tales about you, the one who declared independence from China and travelled south to make your own house, the one who fought with China so many times and still won, and even won against the scary Mongols too!"  
"Um, excuse me, but are you…"  
"Oh, I'm so sorry, I should have introduced myself, bad me.", she put out her hand, "I'm Champa. It's very nice to meet you, Viet!"  
The girl with her hair like a mountain range. The girl with her eyes like the countless shades of trees. The girl with her voice like a bird. The girl with the scent of the forest.  
She no longer seemed so far away, she was no longer a dream, a fantasy. She had never felt so real before, kneeling in front of her, putting out a hand to her, smiling at her with such peaceful smile.  
Champa. She was Champa.

*******

That was the start of their friendship.  
Ever since their first meeting, she no longer had dreams about the southern girl. Because, now, they could meet for real.  
She spent more of her free time going south and meeting up with her new friend. Champa took her to many places, from the coastline to the mountains, from the countryside to the capital, from the plains to the religious towers. She showed her how her people lived, how they worked, she showed her the towers made of red bricks and mud, she showed her how they made their traditional clothes. They also went to the mountainous regions, where there were few people, they spent many days chasing each other in the forest, picking up fruits and flowers, swimming in crystal-clear streams among the fish. They climbed many mountains, ran down many hills and plains, their laughter echoed everywhere like the harmony of life.  
Champa was a great friend. She was knowledgeable and was willing to share what she knew to her friend. She was a proud girl who loved her country so deeply, with every words she spoke, it was a song dedicated to her people. She was a pleasant companion, she may sing and dance joyfully, but she may also just sit besides her friend, resting her head on the other's arm and sharing a quiet moment in the depth of the mountain. She was always kind, always smiling that kind smile, she was soft and graceful like a feather, beautiful and precious. She was like a doll, a national heritage, an icon, a symbol. She was modest and never tried to pick a fight, but she was greatly adored and admired. Being with her was like sitting on a rock by a waterfall. The water current was strong and always flowing, but as it reached the lake below, the current got slower and it almost stood still, as if the water never wanted to be apart from you, always circling under your feet. Being with her was like having a berry in your hand, so small and soft and delicious, but it was so adorable it was a waste to simply eat it. Being with Champa was indescribable.

There were many nights when they, after a long day, all exhausted, just laid next to each other quietly and let the evening brushed at their skin. There were many nights that they just dipped themselves into the water of a waterfall, the cold cut at their skin but none thought of getting out of the water, just sitting there and staring at the other under the diamond-like bubbles. There were many nights when they snuggled up under a tree, Champa's hair smelling like tree sap and mud casually rested on her shoulder, their hands held tight. There were many nights when they just ran to the border to see the other's face, to confirm the other's existence. There were many nights when they sat next to each other under the moon, their arms around the other's body and Champa's eyes shone like crystal, when it was all quiet except for the croaking frogs and buzzing bugs, when their foreheads rested silently by the other's.  
She wondered, if that was what they called 'peace'.

*******

Even if at one point, when Champa refused to go swimming in the streams with her, and the fact that she never showed her bare skin again, didn't once trigger her mind.  
She, after all, was lost in that world which they built together, she was lost in that imaginary perfect world and no longer care for reality. Not the fact that the world was spinning without their knowledge, not the fact that things were going on between their people.  
She was naïve.

Once, she was asked to come to a meeting with her king and his subordinates.  
It was the first time that she came to a meeting again, after so many years. The castle looked stranger than she remembered, the room was dim-lit, the many unfamiliar faces that were standing in the grand hall. Even her king, this king, looked foreign in her eyes.  
She looked as they bowed down in front of her, the motherland. She watched as the king graciously held her hand while she gave her salute. She said down on the chair which she abandoned a long time ago.  
She looked at those people surrounding her. There was a sudden wave of uneasiness arising in her mind.  
"So, what is the purpose of this summoning me to the meeting? You people have ruled the country perfectly after all those years."  
"My Lady, it was with great honour that we were chosen for our positions as governors of the country, but without my Lady lighting us the way, we surely could never…"  
"Get to the point.". She was tired of formal meaningless words like these already. After all, no matter what her opinion was, in the end, things were always done according to the king's command anyway. What's the use of this worthless meeting?  
"Of course, my Lady. To make the simple matter, we are here today to discuss the issue of the south."  
The south? "What is there to discuss about the south? Aren't we on good terms right now?"  
There was a snicker somewhere in the crowd. She glared at the king. The whole room was back to its solemnity.  
"Well, my Lady, maybe my Lady should have attended more meetings. Is my Lady not aware of our invasion to the south?"  
"Wait, invasion?"  
"Yes, my Lady, we are going to invade Champa."

The whole room suddenly got tighter.  
The incense fragrance in the air got denser and she felt choked.  
The many candle light danced in front of her was like flame of hell, hurting her eyes.  
The people in this room suddenly felt like strangers. They were no longer her people, her children. Their black eyes were staring at her, laughing at her, insulting her, the ignorant motherland of theirs.  
The world felt like spinning, and the ceiling seemed lower than it should be.  
"You people can't be serious! Why are we invading south? Don't we already have alliance with them? Don't we deal business with them? Aren't we friends with them?"  
"My Lady. Doesn't my Lady realize that such alliance was only a pawn in the game? We were never friends with the Cham from the start. That was all part of our plan. We sincerely apologize for not informing you of such plan ealier, it was all for our people's good."  
"How does invading someone else is something for our people's good? How can we live happily, stealing away their house, their family, their lives? How is that happiness?"  
"My Lady, my Lady. My Lady should have realized, that our population has increased greatly in the past few years? The land, however, will never be enlarged if we don't do something about it. Land does not grow, my Lady. We have to expand it, with our force. Please think of what good it will bring to our people. More land means more place to live, more jobs to do, more land to grow crops on, more rivers, more coastline to catch fish on. If the Champ cannot defend their territory, they do not deserve it. Let the war begin, my Lady, and let the territory be the prize for the winners."  
"But, such act, invading Champa, invading her…"  
"My Lady!", she looked up, shocked at the harsh voice, "please think of our people a little. We know that my Lady's on good terms with Champa, but th people should always be our priority. Remember, my Lady's only the presentation of our people, my Lady ought to understand what our people feel in heart, my Lady were born by the people, for the people, my Lady's life depends on the fate of this country, of us. This is not a threat, this is only the reminding from us, that we are going into war, that it has already begun. There is nothing else you can do, nor you can stop us. Please, do not make it hard for our, we are your children too, we do feel pained seeing you unhappy. But a country must be for her people's good. Still, we are deeply indebted to my Lady's relationship with Champa…"  
What?  
"…for if it wasn't for your time spent with her and all the things you told our people about her, the invasion plan was greatly profited. With the knowledge about her and her people, we are in great advantage. We cannot be grateful enough for what my Lady has done to us."

The world was crumbling apart. The ground underneath her feet was shaking wildly, making her feeling nauseous. Words being said buzzed in her ears, syllables all broken. The many faces in front of her swam around speedily, like a whirlpool, pulling every last sense in her together with them down the drain. Suddenly everything seemed so unreal.  
She shook her head wildly. This must be a dream, a bad dream, things like invasion and war and her people, they were all parts of a nightmare. She needed to escape from it quickly, she needed to get out of here. She needed to go, to the south, if only she could pass that border, she would be able to see her again.  
Yes, that was what she should do. If only she could run into that embrace, if only she could hold her like that forever, then surely, Champa's scent would overcome every bit of spoiled smell of war, her voice would overlap all sorrows and cries of battlefield, her smile would blind away the sight of smoke and death, her embrace would shelter her away from all pains and guilt.  
She stood up, her body all trembling. She slowly stepped away from the throne, heading towards the door.  
"My Lady, does my Lady really think that she can do back to that place again?"  
The word spoken in her ears was like a slap. She could hear the hiding sound of laughter in that voice of her king.  
"By now, those Cham people must have realized the reason of you becoming close to their motherland. Does my Lady really believe that they will still welcome you with opening arms, does my Lady believe that they will forgive her for what she has done to their country? Does my Lady believe that, even just one person, if only that girl believes in you, then everything will be all right?"  
"By now, there are already battlefields being set at the border, please be careful if my Lady still insists on going there. But, wherever she goes, please remember what I've said. Do not let the shadow of selfishness overwhelm the heart for our people. Do not be pained about the coming events, after all, this is what everyone's wished for. We have great trust in my Lady, after all those times fighting under her command, all those times defeating the vicious claws of the Chinese and the Mongols. We believe in our motherland, in her fate that will lead us to victory. Do not let us down, my Lady. The people's hearts are with you. Always."

Ran, ran, ran.  
She ran away from that voice, from the mumbling of the generals, of that suffocating room full of lies.  
She ran, all the way to the border. And she realized that they were not joking, that she really had escaped from reality for too long.  
In front of her was not the usual happy sight of markets and traders and chattings, but the bloody scene of men fighting men, the war between their children, the war between the ones who did not share the same language, the same culture, the same king. It was the invasion, it was the truth.  
She went into that crowd of people who were clashing swords at each other, looking for a familiar face. She saw in the far back, a young man that she once met when she went to visit Champa.  
"Excuse me, can you take me to where Champa is?"  
The man turned around, for one moment, he did not move. Then, all too suddenly, he and many others, swords and spears at hand, all pointed her body. Their eyes were full of anger and there was fire burning.  
"You dare to return here and command us like a dominant country? You dare to return here, with all those warriors of ours, after all you have done to us? You dare to wish to see the Lady? You dare to.."  
From everywhere, her people all came in front of them, making themselves a shield between her and the Chams.  
"Oh, so important now, you terrible bitch! After leaking our secrets to your people, knowing that we trust you with all our hearts, because the Lady sees you as a precious friend, now all you've got to do is massacring us like animals? What are you, betraying the Lady like that? She trusted you, she saw you as a true friend, we all did. Is this how you treat other people's friendship in your fucking land? Is this how the Viets' minds think? What have we done to you barbarian people? We did not steal your cattle, didn't fight with your people, didn't touch the sea and the rivers of your country, so why are you doing so to us?"  
And with a terrible cry, they launched forwards to her, all shining with iron weapons.  
She closed her eyes.

Stab. She heard metal pinning into flesh, she heard the cry in the air, like the howl of the wind, like the towers falling apart. She smelled the scent of blood in the air, mixed with dirt and sweat and horse, she heard the sound of the red liquid flowing out of the body, draining it up. She tasted pain on the tip of her tongue. She let go of a long-holding breath. She deserved this, she deserved the final blow. If she was dead, then maybe the misunderstanding would be over, maybe the people would no longer fight, maybe her people no longer want to participate in this war, maybe there would be peace for both countries.  
She touched her chest, wanting to feel the opening wound.  
But she found none.  
She blinked her eyes open, a bit overwhelmed by the light, and heard something falling down.  
Out of the circle of people that was protecting her, bodies were falling, scattering the ground with the sound of breaking swords and sickening scent of blood. The earth was a dark colour of red.  
In a fright, she ran out of the circle of people, towards the man who insulted her. She knelt down besides him and saw his eyes opening wide in surprise. She heard his quick and heavy breath, and saw the wound at his heart. In a hurry, she ripped off the fabric of the dress she was wearing and tried to stop the blood flow. Her sweats fell and she felt like crying. A friend was killed because of her.  
Slash.  
She felt a sting of slight pain on her left shoulder. The pain eventually grew, and in a moment it felt as if someone was ripping her arm apart.  
"MY LADY!". Her soldiers, who realized what was wrong, gathered around her. They blinked at the sight of fresh red blood dyeing the white dress a crimson colour. They also saw a sword stabbing through her left shoulder, the sword which was trembling in the hand of a dying man.  
In a flash, the man's arm was cut off his body. He trembled wildly from the wound, but could no longer utter any sound, as life was already dripping out of his body. That was not the end. Hundreds of swords slammed through his chest, his limbs, his head, his body was chopped into pieces.  
She was taken away from the massacre, the sword was carefully extracted from her shoulder, her wound carefully treated and bandaged. She was carried back to base and given the assuring words that they would take care of everything, and that the king would soon arrive to bring her home.

She was left alone in the house of one of the nearby family. Outside of the tightly shut door, she could hear the cries of men and the fallen swords. She was away from the battlefield, but there was still the scent of blood and sweat in the room. She was protected in the safe shelter, away from those who wished to avenge her, away from all dangers.  
But she was not assured.  
As the king arrived and saw her bandaged shoulder, he immediately brought her back to the capital. He took her to her room, tucked her into bed and smiled, saying that all dangers were gone and now she could rest, the war could wait until later. He told her to rest and left, closing the door as he stepped out, leaving her by herself.  
She laid in bed, eyes wide awake. She stared at the ceiling.  
But all she could see was the accusing eyes of a man who was being murdered, the eyes raging with fire that bore the sadness and anger of the whole kingdom, the black and deep eyes of the south. Just like Champa's eyes.

When she woke up in the middle of the night, her body was soaked of sweat and her eyes were teary. The strands of hair stuck together and her head hurt. The wound on the shoulder ached so badly she wanted to scream. There was blood dripping from the wound onto her pillow.  
She gritted her teeth, trying not to say the name of the one who appeared in her dream. She bit her lips hard and drew blood. Her body shook and she hugged herself, her face buried in her knees. Tears couldn't help but fell and wetted the blanket which held around her body.  
She kept on telling herself to forget forget forget, but the image of that smile, that face, that figure, had already been carved into her heart, with every thought, they came out even more vividly than before, as if that girl was sitting there right by her bedside, the cold hands massaging her sweaty back, the pleasant scent of trees and flowers embracing her and coaxing her into sleep, the voice of the chirping bird singing the foreign words of songs, like a spell casting on the desperate victim, the warmth of another body pressed at her aching shoulder, chasing the pain away. Champa had never felt so close, as if with a bit of effort, she could grab hold of that girl and pulled her close, never to let her go again, but yet again she had never felt so apart, like they were really drifting apart, away to the opposite end of the world, like that in the many dreams they shared.  
She bit her skin through the blanket, stopping another scream.  
Her sanctuary was already gone.

The next morning came with birds chirping happily in the garden right outside her room, with sunlight knocking on the door, with a fresh wind filling the room with the scent of a new day. The king stood outside of the room, hesitating, wondering if he should knock on the door or not. His generals stood behind him quietly.  
"Maybe it is best that we leave the Lady to rest for a while.", the king said, after a long while standing motionlessly in front of the door.  
As the men started to walk away, they heard the creaking sound of an opening door behind their back. Turning around, there was their motherland, fully-dressed in armor and sword, her hair tied and braided. Her eyes were strangely dark and shadowed.  
"Let's go to war.", her voice solemn and determined.  
"But my Lady, you were wounded badly and…"  
"I said, let's go to war. Did I make myself clear?"  
The men stared at her with worried eyes, wondering what to do, whether they should let their sacred motherland go into battlefield, or disobey her, which was something that they could never do.  
They heard a laugh and turned their head to look at the king. The man nodded his head and knelt down in front of their Lady, holding her left hand.  
"As you wish, my Lady."  
And his men followed.  
"As you wish, my Lady!"

"So, what made my Lady changed her mind?"  
She stopped, looking at the still-walking man who did not look back. "It wasn't just because my Lady wants to revenge for that wound, right?"  
She bowed her head a little and caught up with him.  
"I am a country, aren't I? Countries are better not with other countries, but her people. I am merely doing what my people wish."  
"My Lady will be on our side, won't she?"  
They both stopped walking.  
"Is there any other place for me to be, apart from here?"  
The king looked sideway to the lady next to her. He smiled, placing a hand on her unwounded shoulder.  
"Please watch out for us and lead us to victory once more. For the people."  
"For the people", she repeated, and walked away.

*******

Thus was the start of their invasion. Her people, with more power, more experience in war, a stronger country, easily claimed Champa's territories, one after another. But, behind the victories, blood was wastefully shed, lives were mercilessly taken, towns were cruelly burnt, the country was terrible wounded. As the army headed south, more towers fell apart, more people were killed, more land was taken. As the news of victory arrived in the wind, there was also the smell of death. As the horses neighing on the foreign southern land, cries of children were heard echoing the entire country.

As she sat on the horse galloping southwards, she couldn't help but smiled.  
So, this was what it really meant, to be a country.  
A country with no ties to anyone else, but her people alone. A country with no mercy towards anyone else but her children. A country with no personal emotions, no personal experience, no secrets to her people.  
To be a country was to represent the thought and dreams of her people, was to do as they wish, was to feel only for the people. To be country was to show her utmost loyalty to where she belonged. To be a country was to fight for the people, to put the people's wish in front of everything else. To be a country was to be an icon, a symbol of justice and dreams, something surreal and realistic, something that gained the admiration and love from her children. To be a country was to be for everyone. There was no need for feelings and selfish wishes, the people didn't need that.  
If they need a war, there shall be war. To be a country was to be a saint who granted wishes, not to be one who needed wishes. For a country, happiness was granted by the people.  
She was just a naïve girl who thought that as long as she did her job well, it didn't matter to everyone else what she did, who she befriended with, how she felt. She was naïve to be selfish. In the end, what good did it do?  
She only ended up hurting people. Champa, the Cham people and herself.  
Why did she ever befriend that girl in the first place?

Maybe, if they had never met, if they had never been friends, then she wouldn't have learnt so much about this country. Maybe she wouldn't have slipped her tongue and told the secrets to her people. Maybe the plan wouldn't have been made. Maybe there wouldn't have been wars, any conflicts, any pain, any bloodshed. Maybe, if she had never met Champa, then the two countries could always live in peace aside each other.  
Maybe, if she had never made that mistake of going south.  
Still, when she thought about it, there was always a sting of pain in her chest, right at where she should have been stabbed at. The more she tried to forget that smile, the more it hurt. Countless nights spent on the foreign land and she couldn't sleep, missing the scent of flowers and the warmth of another. Countless times walking pass the red towers and she caught the glimpse of a familiar figure standing by the building, looking at the passing by troops, but as soon as she casted an eye on that figure, it was gone.  
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, she would get dressed and got the horse, riding aimlessly around the camping site, desperately looking for a sign, any sign, but as the sun rose and the horse heaved with tired breath, she had to accept it, that there was none, and she was back to square one. Even worse, with the growing pain in her.

Still, the war was going on, and they were winning. There should no longer any feeling of sympathy towards in land, and as she thought so, the horse galloped forward, and she dyed her sword red.

*******

She stood on the top of a mountain, looking down at the town underneath. Behind her was the proud, erected tower of the Cham and the hundreds of thousands of her soldiers.  
The king stood behind her, on his face was a pleased smile. He knelt down, kissing her sword. "It was all thanks to you, my Lady."  
"My Lady.", the entire army knelt down behind him, bowing their heads.  
She turned around, facing her men. She could see the hardship that they went through, the scars and wounds, the drying blood on their clothes, the red-tipped swords of theirs, the smiles casting on their face, the longing feeling in the eyes wishing to return to their families.  
"All thanks to me", she said. And she knelt down in front of them, her head held down as her braid swept by the sand.  
"My Lady, please stand up my Lady, we are not worthy of such!", they all exclaimed, puzzled by her action. A country never bowed down in front of her people.  
The king hurriedly caught her arm, trying to pull her up, but she casually brushed him aside.  
"My children, is this what you all wish for?"  
A pregnant pause. Everyone stared at her, taken aback.  
She bowed still, waiting for an answer from the crowd. She needed a confirmation, anyone, confirm that what they had been doing was right, anyone, please, tell her that what she had sacrificed for was worth it, that everyone was right.  
But no one said anything. There was only the howl of the wind on the mountain top of the late afternoon.  
Someone finally spoke, a meek, weak voice among the troop.  
"What we think is of mere value, but because of that, we would follow our path til the end. We are indebted to you always, my Lady, it was all because of you that we got this far. All hail the Lady."  
She looked up and saw a young teenager, looking too small in baggy clothes and too big of a spear in hand. The boy felt her gaze and bowed down, quickly apologizing for what he had said.  
But his apologize was lost in thousands of salutation.  
"All hail our Lady! All hail our Lady! All hail our Lady! All hail our Lady! All hail…"  
She cried at the sound of the people. Her heart hurt.  
That was not the answer that she was looking for.

That night was terribly hot. She had never travelled this far southwards so she couldn't believe how hot it was. There was not even a wind and the leaves all stood still. There was no rivers or lakes close by. The insects buzzing in bushes nearby annoyed her to no end, and eventually, she gave up. She put on more formal clothes and got out of the house she was staying in. The air was no cooler outside, and there was not a single string of cloud. The moon was bright and round.  
She missed nights of moongazing.  
Face staring at the moon, she aimlessly walked out of the ground, passing by a troop who saluted at her. She kept on walking, walking, walking. The moon was white and big and hypnotizing, she couldn't stop staring at it.  
But soon, the moon went down, and the sun rose up. She blinked at the loss of the moon in sight, let out a sigh as she realized that morning had already come. She bowed her aching neck and was shocked.  
She was in an unfamiliar forest and everywhere around her were trees and bushes. She was lost, again.

Ironic, wasn't it, she thought, as she walked around the forest, dressed in light clothing and nothing else. The canopy was so thick she couldn't see where the sun, or anything else, was. She couldn't navigate herself in the forest, but trusting on her instinct. She kept on walking until night fell and there was still no sight of the forest ending. She ended up spending the night curling up at a tree.  
Many days were spent likewise, and she still couldn't find a way out. At first, she had hopes for her people, who would realize her disappearance and start to look for her. But that died out soon, for she didn't inform anyone of her departure, she herself didn't know where she was going. Then the fear started crawling up. What if they thought the Cham had gotten hold of her and started slaughtering to find her? She cried thinking so.  
Would she ever do something right for once, so that no trouble would be caused? Why was she always doing the wrong thing, making the wrong decision?  
Then, eventually, that died out too, for she was already tired of thinking. She relied on her instinct, walking around all day without any idea of where it would lead her to. And at night, when she settled down for a sleep, she would always cry, cursing herself for even dreaming of seeing that girl again, the one who stepped into her life so gracefully, the girl that she had hurt so deeply.  
Sometimes, she almost found herself wishing to hear that voice chirping like a mountain bird again. Sometimes, she even wished that the voice of that bird singing above her head actually belonged to a black-haired girl.  
It was pathetic, she knew. It was payback for her sins, she knew.  
Yet she couldn't escape.

Suddenly, she heard the ruffling sound of someone walking behind her. Alarmed, she turned around, ready to fight, but was a tad too slow. Whoever was tagging her quickly slammed something at her head, and the world started so spin. And eventually, everything went black.  
When she woke up, she found herself tied into a tree. It was nighttime, but the area was light, for there was a fire at the middle of the ground. There were people sitting around the fire, seeming like cooking, another group were men sitting with weapons, fixing them. There was a big group at the back, consisting of men, women and children, who gathered around what seemed to be a body. They were whispering to each other in a foreign language, which sounded so familiar, it was like a wave of sounds, so quiet, as if afraid of waking up the body. Every once in a while, a man would glared at her, his eyes the colour of bloodshot and he gripped the club in his hand tight. Then, a woman sitting close to him would whisper into his ears, stopping him from whatever he planned to do.  
The air smelled thick of burning wood and a sweet melody of lullaby. The fire casted its light onto waving leaves, making various shadows among the trees, like a canopy covering it all,  
heltering this little group of people from all the dangers in the world. The people huddled closer to the body. The men grumbling at each other, sending her glares that burnt into her body like curse. Watching this little group of people who managed to escape from her army, sudden waves of guilt washed over her mind again and again. At one point, when the sun was about to rise and the little piece of sky above dyed a lovely hue of aquamarine, she rested her head against the tree trunk, eyes heavily gazing at the dying fire.  
"…hnnn…"  
The quiet group suddenly got excited. They immediately dropped whatever they were doing and gathered up around the body. She watched lazily as they whispered words to the body, their voices sounded like chirping birds and running streams, endless, peaceful, loving. She saw a woman carefully lifted up the lying head and put it onto her laps, caressing the long beautiful black hair. She heard the girl telling something to the crowd, and almost right afterwards, all heads were turned at her. Then they started talking loudly, seeming like refusing whatever the girl wanted. The girl spoke again, softly, almost like a beg.  
The crowd looked at each other with uneasy eyes, like they were in a dilemma. But soon, the women sitting around her started to walked away from the crowd, to the burnt woods. The men shot a look at them, and, without a sigh, they started to do the same.  
She watched as the circle broke apart. She saw a hand pulling out at her, the bony, tan arm and small fingers, the shaking arm that tried to grasp the air.  
Her eyes widened.  
She opened her mouth, shouting out the name which she hadn't uttered for years, the name of a girl that she betrayed, that she hurt, the name that sounded like a drop of water into the still lake, the name of the mountain and the plain.  
The name of her.

The rope busted. Red blood fell down from her arms and legs and chest. Tears fell from her blinking eyes of bewildement. Her whole body ached with pain, her limbs felt like falling apart, her head felt like it was going to explode. All she wanted to do was to lay down and bury herself into the warm soil beneath.  
Yet, they were never so close before. She started to crawl towards the body, mouth never stopped uttering that name. She reached out her hand, trying to catch the one that was waiting for her. She could hear people protesting around her, trying to hold her back, trying to shield the girl away from her.  
She didn't care. She could no longer bother to care for such meaningless efforts. So matter how many arms that were holding her back, no matter how many swords were pointing at her face, no matter how far she was from her goal, they all no longer mattered.  
If only she could see that face again, if only she could feel that smile for her again, if only she could touch those hands again, if only she could feel that warmth beside her again.  
It didn't matter if her body was slaughtered into piece, it didn't matter if she was beaten til death, it didn't matter if she turned away from the path leading her home.  
Because Champa was here, and nothing else mattered.

There was something warm next to her, something warm that was beating and living, something so real, yet felt so surreal. There was a hand caressing her cheeks, there were fingers stroking in her hair, there was a lullaby singing for her alone. She snuggled into that warmth, breathing in a breath full of wild herbs.  
The song stopped. "So, you're finally awake…"  
She opened her eyes and met a pair black orbs staring at hers.  
"Viet, can I ask for a favour?"  
"Mmmm, anything."  
"Can you take me to the plain?"  
"All right. But, aren't you hurt? Can you even go that far?"  
Giggle.  
"Are you willing to piggyback me?"  
"If you trust me not to drop you half-way."  
"All right!", the girl pulled at her arm enthusiastically. "Let's go!!"  
"Now?"  
"Of course. Let's got before everyone finds out."  
"Are you going to run away from your people?"  
"They will never let me go if they find out. Please, Viet, I really want to see the plain again. I've been in the mountain for so long, I have somehow forgotten how it feels like to be in the valley again."  
"But, is it really okay…"  
Black eyes burnt into her corneas, the eyes which looked like crystal that bore countless constellations.  
She had never been able to resist those eyes.

*******

The path out of the forest was hard. Bushes with thorns were everywhere, poking at her feet and legs, making the path behind her back bloomed with crimson dots. The earth was full of rocks and they cut at her skin, leaving trails of red. The weather was hot, she felt like the sun was burning above her head.  
The girl on her back, strangely enough, felt so light, it was like she wasn't carrying anything at all, as if the body on her back was not real. As if there was no black hair tickling the back of her head. As if there was no weak breathing above her ears. As if there was no arms circling around her neck. As if her walking this like was a fantasy.  
She bit her lips and chased away the thoughts.  
"Nee, Viet, how are my people down in the plains?"  
Hwoosh. The wind blew the words away.  
"Is everyone doing well? Do they catch a lot of fish? Do they harvest lots of crops? Do they weave lots of new fabric? Ahh, it's almost the time for the festival, how is the preparation for it? I wonder if the children are excited about it, I used to be so happy whenever this time of year arrives. Nee, why don't we join everyone this year too? I will get you a dress and we can dance by the bonfire…"  
"Champa!"

The sound of dead leaves under her feet felt like white sand on the sand dunes by the sea. The birds above her head called to each other loudly, their voices bounced onto tree trunks and leaves, getting everywhere. Insects crawled onto her skin, sucking her blood and left behind red swollen spots. Rays of sunlight got through the spaces between leaves, making a mosaic of earth tone.  
The breath by her ears felt so light.  
"Ne, Viet. Are we really destined to fight each other?"  
Pause.  
"Ne, why did we fight against each other anyway? Why do we need bloodshed, if we can always be friends? Why do we have to keep on hurting each other?"  
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry…"  
"For what?"  
"I…I should have never befriended you from the start. If I didn't, then there might not be wars, then everyone wouldn't have a reason to fight, then we can all be safe, then you will never be hurt, then…"  
"STOP IT!"  
She glanced at her side and found dropping tears on her shoulder. "Champa?"  
"Let Me Down!!". It was a dangerously scary voice.  
"I said, LET ME DOWN!!"  
Hesitantly, she knelt down and let go of the legs that she was holding by her waist. Champa touched her feet to the forest floor and let go of her neck she was holding on to.  
Plop. She fell down, as her feet were too weak to support her body.  
"Champa!", she turned around quicly, catching the girl's arms to hold her.  
"Let me go! Let me go, let me go, let me go!", the girl struggled, though weakly, trying to wriggle away from those hands. She shook her head wildly, her eyes full of tears.  
"No I will not!", she said, and pulled her friend into a tight embrace.  
"Let me go.", hands weakly thumping on her back.  
"No.", she tightened her hold, a hand of hers found itself in the mop of long black hair.  
"Let me go.", the hands slowed down.  
"No.", she refused again, her hand holding at the back of the girl's head.  
"Let me…". A head dropped onto her shoulders, wetting the fabric of her dress. Hands clamped at her back, holding onto the back of the clothing.  
She pulled the head closer to her cheek, resting her own beside the other's, and closed her eyes.  
"Do you really regret being my friend? Am I not worthy enough to be with you? Do you no longer want to be with me? Are we still friends? Are we still friends?"  
"Of course we are friends. Friends forever. I never once regret being with you, but, just because I'm here and causing you so much pain, I'd rather not…"  
"Nee, Viet, we are countries, aren't we?"  
"Yes, we are. We were born because of the wish of our people, we are the mothers of our children, our destinies are forever bounded to theirs. We wish for their happiness, we will do anything, even sacrificing ourselves for them, we will…"  
The girl extracted herself from the embrace and looked up to the other's face. Their eyes met and it felt like something was blasting off.  
"Can't we just, for a moment only, be true to ourselves? Can we have a day, free to think, to feel, to love, to have the mere rights of a human?"  
She combed through the thick hair, feeling dirt and sweat sticking at her fingertips.  
"We are countries. We do not need for feelings such as love. We are to feel the happiness that is created by our people only."  
"Nee, Viet…Please, can I just have a day to pretend that I was born a country, and I am just a girl, like any other human being, to be free of responsibilities and whatnot, can I just have a day to love as a human, can I just have a day to be selfish? Is that too much to ask for?"  
Those eyes were watching her every change in emotions, those pleading eyes, sparkling like the crystal-like water, deep like the bottomless ocean, the eyes that bore all the sorrows in the world.  
Maybe, if we can find a way to work things out, maybe we do earn a little, just a little bit of peace in our hearts. Maybe, if no one knows, then I can take this girl, this hopeful girl away, just for a day. Maybe…  
Their foreheads touched, it was like a ritual, a promise that it would be all right.  
They both smiled. It would be all right.

*******

The answer, which was on the tip of her tongue, was never known.  
When she felt that little body in her arms trembling terrible, she knew that something was wrong.  
"Champa, what's wron…"  
And she felt her hand wet with blood.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.  
She could hear the many feet of men stomping onto the hard ground. They were everywhere, making a circle that trapped them inside. The air felt thick with human heat.  
All thoughts in her head flew away and she was at a loss of what to do. Her precious friend, wounded by her children, was in her arms. If it was anyone else, then she would waste no time to avenge her friend. Yet, it was her people, who were so close to her, the people that entrusted her with their lives and pride. She couldn't fight them, yet she couldn't betray her friend either.

She held the girl in her arms and ran away. Deeper, deeper into the forest, before anyone could realize that their arrow had found its target. There was no back-up plan, no destination in mind, all she thought about what to get them away from the army as soon as possible.  
"We will make it, I promise. There will be a day for us for sure, so please wait, please wait just for a bit longer. Then, we can…"

She stumbled on a rock and fell over. When she finally regained her sense, they were already very deep in the forest's heart, and the sun was setting, leaving the sky a grand colour of violet. The forest got dark very quickly, and soon, she could no longer realize from which direction they came to this place.  
Champa was lying beside her legs, eyes shut tight and barely breathing at all. The wound on her back was reopening and was bleeding, the back of her dress stained with blood red. From various places on her body, blood started to bleed, from the wounds of the past, from the many wounds that was created during wartime.  
Her fingers trailed down the girl's arms and found the hands. She held onto them, pressing them at her forehead.  
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,…"

"Why are you always apologizing?"  
She raised her head. Staring at her was the barely-lidded black eyes. And a frown.  
"Why, why is it that we can never be together, why can't I be your friend, like anyone else…."  
She opened her mouth, trying to say anything, anything at all, so stop Champa. She couldn't bear hearing those words that cut through her entire being, through her senses, her heart, her reasons to be. But all she found was hiccups and sobbing.  
"Viet, I'm tired…Can we stop for now? I just want to lie down..."  
She nodded, still crying. The hands in hers tightened. She replied the squeeze, finding their hands all too slippery to hold on to. She pressed them at her forehead again, the fingernails cut at the skin, but she didn't mind, she no longer mind at such petty things.

Then, Champa started talking. Her voice was light and unreal, like she was talking in her dream, a dream full of memories and smiles.  
"Viet, do you see the sky above us? Remember the time when we got lost in the forest and had to sleep on the trees? The sunset was this kind of violet too."  
"Ahh, can you hear it, the sound of the nightingales calling to their kind? Back when we were swimming in the streams, we usually heard their calls too. Back then, you were so surprised and kept on asking me what bird that was, and started comparing my voice to the bird. It was strange, first time hearing someone comparing me to a bird…"  
Her monotongue went on, filling the air with a sad feeling of nostalgia.  
"Nee, do you remember the time when we went to see the weavers and their fabric? You told me that you loved the style and couldn't wait to see it in your country. Then people at the border started trading for the fabric, and you were so happy. You said that I looked nice in such patterns. Ahh, I forgot to show you the new fabric again…"  
"The sky is so red now…isn't it just like the colour of the towers? That reminds me of the time when I took you to see them, and you looked so amazed, like a child, you looked so happy and excited, your eyes were full of joy. I really love your eyes, they're so expressive and beautiful."  
"Nee, can you smell that fragrance in the air? It is just like the scent of ripen hill gooseberries , isn't it? You used to say that my scent was just like that too. That and mixed tree sap and wind and sand…"  
"Nee, Viet, you know what, I really treasure those times that we spend together, I really do. There has never once when I regret being your friend, I never dare to. Being your friend was the most amazing thing that could happen to me, and I thank you so much for coming to me. Really, I really do."  
And she started crying, her tears trailing down at her cheeks.

"Nee, can we just have a day when we don't have to be at war? I'm tired. I just want to feel peace, just for once, is that too much to ask for?"

*******

Suddenly, everything seemed so bright.  
They were found out. There was a sea of fire red around them, making a big circle as the soldiers walked through the shrubs, burning torchs in hands. The temperature suddenly rose and the entire forest was bathed in a shower of light. In the crowd, there were also cries in a strange language. The runaway group of Cham people was also found out, and they were carried along with the troop to this far.  
A woman saw the girls first and she started crying, yelling out the name of their nation.  
"Champa! Champa! Champa!"  
Soon, the rest of her kins yelled out as well, as they tried to escape from the chains around their ankles. Sounds of metal clashing at another, the angry stomping feet and the cries were deafening.  
But she couldn't hear any of them. All in her mind was the dear friend of hers, who was lying helplessly at the mercy of her people.  
She felt tears rolling down from her own eyes and slammed a hand at her mouth, trying to surpress the cry that was forming in her throat. Her mind was spinning and the entire world was fading, leaving the two lonely girls alone. She tightened her hand, pulling the hands in hers closer, closer, closer, never wanting to let go, never wanting to be apart again. Broken sobs escaped from her mouth, like a thrown-away music box, the notes in disarrayed order.  
In the corner of her eye, she could see an everlasting smile that mouthed something soundlessly.

The commander of the troop walked out of the group and came closer to the motherland.  
"My Lady!", he exclaimed, unable to hide his joy as he saw her again. But it was strange, to think of what happened: he saw a familiar figure running away from them, and when the person passed by, he could swear that he felt a familiar scent, like that of his hometown.  
He stepped a bit closer and was taken aback, seeing Champa lying at the Lady's feet, all wrenched up and dying.  
"My Lady, this is…"  
"My child.", she suddenly said, with a voice that sounded not like hers at all, the syllables bounced everywhere in the crowd, a low and dangerous voice.  
"Hand me your sword."  
There was a scream in the crowd.  
"You traitor!! WE trust in you, THE LADY trusts in you!! You are her friend!!". It was the voice of a woman, the very same one, the kind one that allowed her to touch Champa again. Soon, the people joined in, all shouting and cursing at her.  
Ah, talking about irony…  
As the soldiers tried to stop the prisoners from insulting her, she spoke again, loud and clear.  
"Hand me your sword."

The commander looked at her, confused. He, like any other, would never try to betray their country's wish. But tonight, standing so close to his motherland, he had never felt…so afraid. This was nothing like the lady that he knew, the kind lady, the one praying for their victories, the one taking care of the wounded warriors so tentatively. But this woman standing next to him was bizarre and unfamiliar, she didn't have this comfortable aura surronding her, she was so foreign, so surreal.  
Yet, he handed her the sword as told, his hands shook as he touched hers. They were freezing, despite the sweats formed on her forehead.  
She mumbled something as she took the sword in his hands, then the sword was out of the hilt, and the metal shone with fire clashed down.  
Blood sprayed out, splashing onto her face and body.  
"TRAITOR TRAITOR TRAITOR TRAITOR TRAITOR TRAITOR TRAITOR TRAITOR…"  
The forest drowned in a terrible scream and the people went rogue, clawing and kicking and yelling and howling.

"Finish them off.", the icy cold command quietly blew in the wind.  
And the earth crumbled under their feet.

*******

"Please, give me peace, Viet…"

*******

Standing at the extreme Southern point of their land now, seeing her children living in peace, she couldn't help but wondered:  
"Is it really the peace that she wanted?"  
She would never know, she guessed.

Sometimes, she would find herself walking alone along the endless coast, feet dipped in cold water and the cuts at her ankles felt sore with salt. Once in a while, she would look back at her footprints in the sand, and remembered the time when there were two lines of them instead of one like now.  
Sometimes, when she went to visit the mountains in the central, she couldn't help but searched for the lonely sound of running water stream, of the sad nightingales that had lost their homes, of the scent of ripen berries being crushed under her bare feet. She couldn't help but found herself hoping, just hoping, that there was a laughter ringing in the air, the strong and musical sound that mixed in the wind.  
Sometimes, when she looked up over her head and found a bright full moon, she wished that there was another body also being bathed in the fresh feeling of moonlight, and there was a shadow overlapping hers.  
Sometimes, when she looked through the chrnonicle of her life, there was a smile on every pages that would make her eyes tearful.  
It was a past that she could never forget.

In the end, what she did, was it the right thing to do?  
In the end, have Champa ever found peace?  
In the end, have _she_ found peace?

*******

"Hey, England."  
"Huh?"  
"How does it feel like to conquer a nation?"  
"Why are you even asking? Thinking of invading someone's house?"  
"No, just wondering…"  
"Well,", England paused, looking out of the window, "it's a good feeling I guess. It feels like glory and pride. It's like, you know, victory."  
"That's all?"  
"Yeah, I guess."  
"All right, thanks then."

"I wish things were that easy."  
Pause.  
"You know Vietnam, we're nations, after all. We were born by the people, for the people, we portrait how the people think, we do as their ambitions wish, we will even hurt and kill if that's what our people want."  
"But, we do have feelings too. The hidden feelings of ourselves, our own view over the world. Therefore, we do feel it when we hurt someone, we do feel guilty and painful, we do feel the warmth of blood on our hands, we see the death of many nations, we witness the departure of the culture, the language, the heart of theirs, we aren't blind over the agony they bear, the curse and unforgiveness that we deserve, the gun being pointed at our chest. We feel it all, so, Vietnam…"  
He put a hand on her shoulder and she turned around, only to find a very sad smile, the smile that bore the pain of his soul, the tears and bood that he caused on the ground of his colonies, the eyes reflecting the shadows of those dead by his hands.  
She had never seen someone in such great agony.  
"Can we, for one day, stop fighting at all? I just want to feel peace, even if it's just for a single day."  
Hundreds of years ago, a beautiful black-haired girl, while being slaughtered, also spoke those words. She was also smiling, that heart-wrenching smile which said that she understood it all. Vietnam remembered the reflection of herself in those crystal-like eyes.

"Hey, England, is crying for a nation a taboo?"  
"Yes."  
"Is it a crime against my people? Am I betraying them?"  
"Yes. But then again…"  
"…yes?"  
"Cry still. Just cry still."

"I will never cry in front of you at least."  
"Ahh, that is so cruel!"  
And they both laughed.  
When she stopped laughing, she realized that he was having that smile again. There was something in his smile, something that she couldn't fathomed. Something…precious.  
"Find peace, Vietnam."  
"Can we ever find such invaluable thing?"  
"Somedays, we all will…"

Is it okay to long for peace? Is it?  
In the end, where is it? What is it? Has anyone ever achieved it?  
How does one know if they've received peace in soul yet? How to you obtain peace? If you have to destroy someone's else's peace for yours, is that still what you call 'peace'?  
The world is constantly changing and the people's hearts are shadowed. 'Peace' has been narrowed into a very selfish word, and for which people are willing to hurt each other.  
But maybe, somedays in the future when there is no longer borders in the world, maybe then, that will be peace.  
May somehow we can be blessed with peace. Even if it can only be obtained after death.


End file.
